


Bring Back What Once Was Mine

by couronnedesfleurs



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tangled (2010) Fusion, Angst, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Magic, Drama, Fantasy, Gen, Inspired by Tangled (2010), Kidnapping, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, M/M, Multi, Piett Needs A Promotion, Prince Luke Skywalker, Romance, Skywalker Family Drama, Skywalker Family Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26166793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couronnedesfleurs/pseuds/couronnedesfleurs
Summary: Luke has only ever known the inside of his tower, and is desperate to see the outside world. Luckily a handsome thief arrives just in time to help him on his journey; however, a certain Sith Lord is not happy with this turn of events, especially when he learns the true identity of the child he stole eighteen years ago…
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Luke Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader & Luke Skywalker, Ezra Bridger/Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 128





	1. Prologue: Something That I Want

**Author's Note:**

> So remember how I said I wasn't going to have time to write fic atm as I'm supposed to be getting ready for uni?

Vader’s lip curled at the lax security arrangements surrounding the Organa’s palace. If the fools couldn't even protect their own home, it was insanity that they should be left in charge of an entire kingdom.

It had been astoundingly easy to enter the building unnoticed, albeit aided by the will of the Force. Under normal circumstances he would be flanked by dozens of guards, but this was a personal mission. Not even the Emperor knew he was here. The Organas had taken something precious to him, and he was going to retrieve it, whatever the cost.

He scanned the bedroom, the temperature dropping several degrees as he quickly came to the conclusion that what he sought was nowhere in sight. Ozzel was going to get a permanent and swift demotion for reporting false information to him. He had been itching for an excuse to get rid of the vain, foolhardy man for some time, and this provided him with the perfect opportunity.

There was a shuffling sound, and Vader turned, his gaze resting on a crib in the corner of the room. It was pure white as the Alderaan people favoured, and elegantly hand carved. A small mobile gently spun above the pillows, twinkling with intertwined suns and moons dusted with a scattering of silver stars.

He’d heard that Breha Organa had given birth to twins, a boy and a girl. The knowledge had filled him with a hatred so intense that he’d had to replace seven fallen officers that day, simply for being unfortunate enough to have been in his vicinity when the news had broken. Fate had shown a malevolent cruelty by gifting two healthy children to a pair of spineless undeserving traitors, when his own child had been brutally snatched from this world before he had even taken his first breath.

Vader knew that Padmé had been carrying a boy. He remembered how sweetly the Force sung with the secret when he pressed his shaking hand against her swollen belly and felt his heartbeat for the first time. In that moment, he had been certain that he would never feel any greater joy in his life.

He hadn’t been wrong. Padmé’s death had stolen all the light from his existence along with their priceless son, extinguishing her vivid flame forever and leaving him stumbling alone in the darkest pit of despair.

There was a small gurgle and the sound tore at him like a branded whip, reminding him of all he had lost and the Organas had gained. He clenched his fists, the leather creaking violently. The Venetian mirror on the dressing table shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. Shards of glass exploded into the air, careering dangerously close to the crib as Vader watched dispassionately. It was not his responsibility to take care of a pair of royal brats that had stupidly been left unguarded.

_It would serve the treacherous Organas right if-_

**_Wait._ **

The glass fragments had not reached their intended destination, but instead were frozen in mid-air just above the crib, vibrating unnaturally with the pressure of being held aloft. Lethal jagged edges gleamed in the reflection of the moon, casting a beam of light down into the cot.

The Force hummed, and Vader could feel the raw power emanating from one singular source.

Eyes narrowing behind his mask, he marched to the cradle like a harbinger of doom, his black cape flaring behind him.

There was a small baby curled in the soft blankets, pink legs kicking, chubby arms flailing. The girl was nowhere to be seen- most likely elsewhere in the palace with her wretched parents- but the boy lay vulnerable and alone in the cot, his large round eyes gazing up at him.

Vader was intrigued. The glass was still hovering in place with unwavering resolve; to have that much prowess in the Force as a new-born was completely unheard of. It was a complex magic. Many sorcerers would practice every day for their entire lives, and never hope to possess anywhere near the potential that lay in this small child.

He knew that he should exterminate the boy without question. He was undoubtedly a threat to his Master, who would wish to see him dead before he could grow up to become a rival, or worse, a usurper. He was surprised that the Organas hadn’t taken more caution in concealing their child’s Force abilities. The Emperor was so paranoid of a coup, he had decreed that all Force wielders would be executed without trial. Surely, despite their many faults, the Organas would not wish this fate upon their son. Either way, his life was certainly in great danger. It would be the merciful thing, to snuff out this small wick before it could be fully ignited into an inferno and risk burning them all on the pyre.

He considered the child, who strangely enough didn’t seem to be frightened of him. He was well aware of his formidable appearance. The mere mention of Vader’s name struck fear into the hearts of every living man, woman and child in all the realms who carried a sensible head on their shoulders. Yet this child neither cowered nor conceded to his intense gaze; instead, he stared curiously back at Vader as though he was trying to work him out, to see what lay under the strange looking mask. In a world where even his closest subordinates could barely meet his eye, it was refreshing to see such shame faced boldness from one so young. It seemed wondrous that he could have been spawned from the insipid Organas.

He reached out a gloved thumb to brush against the boy’s cheek.

It would be a great waste of talent to smite the youngling before his abilities could be properly assessed and honed. He could be employed as a powerful weapon. If he stole the child away, he could sway him to his side and win his loyalty. He would teach him all he knew about the Force, and nurture him into a formidable opponent. With his excellent shielding abilities, the Emperor would be none the wiser of this tiny viper hidden in the heart of the nest he had built. With their combined strength, he could simultaneously overthrow his old Master and seek revenge on the Organas. It would be pure poetry; the teacher slayed by his apprentice, and the parents destroyed by their own child.

And he could not deny the _longing_ in his heart, the unfamiliar paternal instincts racing through his veins as he stared down at this little boy. He was already showing tufts of blonde hair that gleamed golden in the shadow of the night, and his expressive eyes were the colour of the sea. Appearance wise, he looked nothing like the dark-haired, olive-skinned Organas. In fact, with his light colouring, he could easily be the son of Anakin Skywalker-

_No._

He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, shoving away the painful memories that came echoing through his mind of that boy, that _idiotic headstrong boy_ who hadn’t realised he’d held the entire world in his palm until he’d crushed it.

He was not that person anymore. He had died along with Padmé and their son. There was no longer any room for love in his heart. Power was what he had chosen, and power was what he would pursue.

The Force had led him here, not to take back Padmé’s heirloom after all, but something _much_ more valuable.

He would take this boy and raise him as his own, in place of the one that had been stolen from him.

Gingerly he reached down into the crib, lifting the baby up with an awkwardness that made him angry. If he hadn’t been denied his own chance at fatherhood, perhaps it wouldn’t feel so alien to hold this child.

He swaddled the boy in his blankets, taking great care to keep his touch featherlight. The boy was so unbelievably _tiny-_ Vader could probably snap his neck with his pinkie finger if he wished it.

The boy blinked, as if he could read Vader’s thoughts.

‘You don’t need to be alarmed, little one. I will not harm you.’

He waved a hand over the child’s head and he fell asleep instantly, his head lolling against Vader’s chest. It would not do to have the child cry out and risk them both being discovered. The glass clattered to the ground as the boy fell unconscious, splintering like teardrops over the richly carpeted floor.

Vader cast one last look around the room with a sneer. By the time the Organas realised the boy was missing, it would already be too late. This room would haunt them for the rest of their days, the ghost of their son an insurmountable weight on their hearts, and his twisted soul revelled in satisfaction.

He vanished into the night, the crown Prince of Alderaan tucked securely in his arms.


	2. Father Knows Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke contemplates his life in the tower and his relationship with his mysterious father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't sleep because life is exhausting rn and I had a burst of inspiration for this chapter so I hope it's okay, apologies for any mistakes.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments and encouragements on the prologue, I'm so sorry I haven't got round to replying yet!

‘GOTCHA!!’

The little bird squealed and attempted to dive into the nearest flowerpot, but Luke grabbed him by the tail triumphantly.

‘I think you get worse at this game every time we play, Artoo,’ he teased as the bird ruffled its blue and white feathers indignantly, cheeping all the while.

‘I know it’s boring, but what else do you suggest we do? There are no more books to read, no more manoeuvres to practice, no more spells to cast-’

Artoo flew excitedly in small circles, nudging his beak towards the window. Sighing, Luke made his way over and leaned on the ledge.

‘You _know_ I can’t, Artoo. Father would be furious. He says it’s safest for me in here.’

Artoo made a rude noise.

‘Besides, even if I wanted to leave, I don’t know how to.’

The bird deflated with a sad chirp. He remembered all too well what had happened when Luke discovered the one entrance way in and out of the tower.

Luke gazed out at the hazy late afternoon sky, closing his eyes and letting the rays cast golden shadows over his cheeks. So high up in the tower, he always felt closer to the heavens than to the earth. But what was the point of being able to lasso the moon, if he couldn’t feel blades of wild grass and daisies beneath his feet? He had lived almost eighteen years of his life in the clouds; he longed to one day touch the ground.

He could paint the view out of the window from memory, and had done so on the walls of the tower many times, even through the changes of seasons and nature’s glorious unpredictability. To the East lay the great forest and the river that snaked its way through the dense fir trees; to the West stood the mighty mountains with their snow-capped peaks. There was beauty all around, but although the green leaves inevitably shrivelled and writhed, and the snow would run in rivulets down the rocky terrain, the essence remained the same. Everyday assured him of the same eternal landscape. There was, however, one thing that changed.

_The stars._

They were a curious thing. His father had taught him to chart stars when he was very young, and he was an expert at navigating using the night sky-though Artoo had cheekily pointed out he would never have any use for such a skill as long as he remained stuck in the tower, which he had received a sharp poke in the feathers for.

But _these_ stars; they were special. They glowed with warmth, unlike the cold unblinking stars of the constellations, and they moved in tandem, floating across the sky with no restriction. They only ever appeared for one night, and that night happened to be Luke’s birthday.

When he asked his father about them, the room temperature had dropped by several degrees. He told Luke they were insignificant, that they bore no relevance to him or his birthday, and that he shouldn’t concern himself with such petty things. But his father’s indifference only made Luke more determined to find out what exactly those stars were, and where they came from. There was no way his father was unaware of their origins. He was the most powerful sorcerer in the land, and there was nothing he did not know. So why would his father not want him to find out? Were the stars dangerous? Could they be a threat from someone, or something…the Emperor, perhaps?

He shivered despite the basking of the sun. His father had frightened him with horror stories of the Emperor ever since he was a small boy. He was a cruel, wicked man who had abused his powers in order to seize the throne. Despite his own past, he had hypocritically outlawed the use of magic, and any sorcerers found to still be practising spells or alchemy were ordered to be executed without trial.

_‘Now do you see why you must stay in this tower, little one?’ his father had said, running a gentle hand through his hair as a five-year-old Luke sat in his lap. ‘If the Emperor knew of your talents, he would have you killed. There are numerous other dangers which would befall you if you went outside, even if you avoided his clutches. You are in even more danger than the everyday sorcerer, as your potential is immense. Magic users are much sought after by villains and thieves, as well as the ancient order of the knights. If they even heard rumours of the power you wield, they would want to steal you away, use your magic for their own gain. They would take you away from me. You don’t want that, do you?’_

Luke smiled bitterly at the memory as he turned away from the window. That had been only the first in a long line of lessons of the horrible fate he would endure if he ever stepped foot outside. If anything, his father’s warnings only made him more determined to see the world for himself. If it really was so horrible, then how could his father come and go as he pleased, and never suffer any consequences? His magic was infinitely more powerful than Luke’s. Luke wasn't even quite sure what his father did when he left the tower, and he didn't dare to ask. 

A loud creak under his feet drew his attention to the most unpleasant fixture of the room. The loose floorboard had been furiously sealed over with magic, branding it a burnt shade of charcoal that stood out from the gleaming mahogany Luke had spent all morning polishing.

It had once been the entrance and exit to the tower; the only one, in fact. In those days, his father had always left when Luke was still asleep and returned before he awoke, but after much theorising, Artoo had finally figured out how Vader came and went when the tower contained no doors. Upon this discovery, Artoo had tried to persuade Luke many times to explore the secret passage, insistent that he didn’t even need to leave the tower, that it would be fun to see the route his father took every time he left, that it wouldn’t hurt just to have a quick look. Eventually, when he was around thirteen, Luke had given in to his curiosity. One afternoon when he hadn’t been expecting his father back for a few hours, he had gently prised the floorboard up and peeked into the black hole below.

_‘I’m not sure about this,’ he’d whispered to Artoo, ‘it looks awfully dark. I can’t even see where the steps are.’_

_Artoo chirruped exasperatedly as if it should be obvious, and Luke flushed._

_He started to hum under his breath and his hair lit up like a sunburst, light flooding the dreary passage and illuminating a set of worn stone stairs. Grinning excitedly, he lowered himself into the hole, Artoo tucking himself under his shirt. He eyed the stairs with anticipation; there must be a few hundred at least, this tower was **tall** after all-_

_He let out a small gasp when he heard swift footsteps, and a second later his father appeared on the stairs below._

**_Nonononono he’s not supposed to be back yet-!_ **

_Though Luke was above him, his body half levered into the hatch, Vader still managed to tower over him with a terrifying fury, his anger rolling off him in ferocious waves-_

_‘And where exactly did you think **you** were going, young one?’_

Luke pushed away the painful image and the icy chill of his father’s voice, not wanting to remember any more.

That was the first time he had truly been scared of him.

Immediately after the encounter, Vader had blocked the exit, and stepped up the lectures twofold. But the worst, and certainly cruellest thing he’d done, was to cast a dark spell that made the tower even taller. He recalled the tears trickling down his face as the soft looking grass and bubbling stream melted away, forever out of his grasp. What had been tantalisingly close before was now irrevocably lost to him. He could no longer hear the birdsong as the trees nestled far beneath the tower. The beautiful wild flowers Luke would spend hours drawing from the windowsill were now distant specks.

He was well and truly trapped.

Over the next few days his father gradually calmed down, no doubt satisfied that with his new arrangements, Luke would not be able to go poking around and accidentally find a way to leave. He took great pleasure in performing elaborate wordless spells in front of Luke that created portals in the walls, enabling him to leave the tower whenever he pleased. It was a clear lesson; that his disobedience would not be tolerated, and that leaving was not an option. He had pushed his father’s patience too far.

Luke tiptoed around the tower like a ghost, pale-faced and morose, avoiding his father as much as possible. They hadn’t spoken since the incident, and Luke was beginning to wonder if Vader would start locking him up in his room like he’d threatened to. Piett, his father’s assistant, became a frequent visitor to the tower as he delivered the usual supplies, and in those few weeks Luke saw him more than his own father. He was grateful for the company, but it was always shadowed by the knowledge that Vader had ordered Piett to keep an eye on him and report back any new escape attempts. It was stifling, and he longed for the hour he could say a meek goodnight and retreat to his room before his father came home. Despite his anger over the injustice and his newfound fear of his father, there was a part of him that regretted ever exploring the stupid tunnel. If he hadn’t gone looking for trouble, they wouldn’t be in this situation. He felt distraught when he questioned if he would ever be able to regain his father’s trust; but at the same time, after that fearsome display of temper, he also began to wonder if he could now ever trust his father again.

Late one night, while Luke lay sleepless in bed, his door had quietly creaked open. He froze, his heart thumping out of his chest as he mentally scanned the room for any incriminating evidence. The wardrobe was pulled over his paintings of the infamous stars, and Artoo was safely asleep in the bottom of it, along with the many secret trinkets and gifts he brought back from his travels. Luke shifted the blankets around him and hastily closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

Soft footfalls echoed across his floor, almost too light to be his father, but it could be no one else. Piett never stayed overnight.

The mattress sunk as his father perched next to him. He hadn’t been in Luke’s room without permission since he was around ten, saying he needed his privacy. Luke silently trembled, trying hard not to screw his eyes up in fear and give himself away. Was this the moment he was dreading, where his father would mercilessly take away his last remainder of freedom?

Instead of being roughly shaken awake like he was expecting, a tentative hand pushed his hair away from his forehead, fingers carding through the wavy strands.

There was a deep sigh, so uncharacteristic from his father that Luke had to resist the urge to open his eyes and check it really was him.

‘I should not have lost my temper, Luke. I should have known better than to leave temptation there in plain sight. You are only a child, after all. It was bound to happen sooner rather than later.’ 

The hand shifted, hovering over his face.

‘I just want to keep you safe, to teach you everything I know until you are powerful enough to look after yourself. You don’t understand how dangerous it is out there. But I did not mean to hurt you, little one.’ 

Vader sat expectantly, as though waiting for Luke to forgive him and throw his arms around him. Luke stayed perfectly still, regulating his breathing to sound as natural as possible.

‘I know you are angry. You are an intelligent boy; it is only natural for you to be curious about the outside world. But I need you to understand that your place is here. With **me.** ’ 

The air tensed for a moment as Vader’s magic flooded out, possessive and overbearing. Though he suspected it was supposed to be comforting- and maybe it would have been if he were years younger- Luke just felt suffocated.

‘I need you to accept that this is the way things are, and this is how they will always be. Only together can we become powerful enough to depose the Emperor, and rid the land of the cursed knights. I will become King, and you will be the crown Prince. It is no less than we deserve. It is our destiny, Luke.’ 

Luke had to fight hard not to cry out in shock. He had always known of his father’s hatred of the Emperor and the knights, of course. They were the cause of his father’s disfigurement, and his subsequent banishment. But for Vader to plot to become King _himself_ , and to make Luke a _Prince?_ The idea was preposterous; not to mention high treason.

A careful thumb brushed over his cheekbone. 

‘We will talk no more of what has happened. It is in the past; we must look to the future, and ensuring your training goes ahead uninterrupted. Your potential will not be wasted, my treasure. I promise you.’

As his father stroked his cheek, Luke strained in the darkness for the three words he longed for his father to say; the three words that would confirm his forgiveness, that would end his misery, that would prove he wasn’t just a tool to deliver his father the power he so desperately craved.

But they never came. With one last brush of his hair, Vader stood and exited the room as quietly as he’d come. Luke got no sleep after that, and lay awake until the early hours of dawn. He was relieved to find his father gone the next morning when he eventually got up, eyes red and hair mussed from tugging at it. He had plastered a smile on his face for Piett during the day, and when his father arrived home that evening, they both acted as though nothing had occurred between them.

Though part of Luke was grateful for his father putting the unfortunate incident behind him, another part had never forgotten the encounter. Even now almost five years later, seeing the floorboard made Luke’s stomach swirl unpleasantly. Until that day he’d never truly known his father, and now that he did, he wished he had remained ignorant.

The wall to his right suddenly crackled and sparked, making him jump as ribbons of colour swirled over the plain whitewash.

Artoo flitted from his shoulder where he’d been perched and flew into Luke’s room, burrowing down into the closet where the rest of Luke’s treasures lay. Luke hurriedly shut his bedroom door and surveyed the room critically for anything out of place, though there would not be much he could do about it now.

His father was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Luke! Don't worry though, he will be getting out of his tower sooner than he thinks...
> 
> Please comment to let me know your thoughts, they seriously make my day 💕
> 
> I also have two other ongoing Skybridger fics so check them out if you're interested! There's [my magnum opus Anastasia AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25251058/chapters/61213447) and a [mermaid/sea goddess AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26182942/chapters/63713638). 
> 
> You can come chat to me/follow my [Tumblr](https://couronnedesfleurs.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fleurscouronne) for live writing updates. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 🥰


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